Derek lifts Stiles’ legs a little higher, slipping them over his shoulders. Stiles is relaxed and loose-limbed, and his knees fall out wide.
Derek leans in again and licks a long stripe along the line where Stiles’ leg meets his thigh. Stiles moans, and whispers out a plea, so Derek does it again.
Derek’s been teasing him for most of the afternoon. He spent an age lapping at Stiles’ nipples and nuzzling into Stiles’ armpits and sucked a huge hickey onto the back of one of Stiles’ biceps. He hasn’t yet touched Stiles’ balls, or cock. His lover is hard and heavy, twitching every time Derek touches another part of his body, dripping a growing pool of come across the trail of hair that leads to his navel.
Derek want’s to taste it, he wants to lick Stiles clean, spread it though the scruff on his face and swipe it off his own lips.
He won’t risk touching Stiles’ cock though. Not until after.
Derek noses closer to Stiles’ balls and, making sure Stiles’ knees are spread wide, laps at the sweat between them and Stiles’ thigh. He keeps the same distance from Stiles’ sack as he ducks lower and nibbles across Stiles’ taint and Stiles’ moans long and loud when Derek flicks his tongue towards the edge of Stiles’ hole.
It won’t be long now.
Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ legs, and shifts into his Beta form. Stiles doesn’t notice that the hands at his knees are now tipped with claws. He’ll notice in a moment, though.
Derek isn’t certain that Stiles realizes, but his thighs are just as sensitive as his balls, maybe even as sensitive as his cock and hole. Derek pulls Stiles’ legs in closer to his own face and leans into drag his stronger, longer, rougher wolf-tongue across Stiles’ rim. Stiles’ cries out, but he doesn’t come until Derek pulls his head back and drags the extra-wolfy sides of his face along the soft, tender, perfect skin of Stiles’ inner thighs.
Now Derek can taste.